


These fidgety hands

by ConfusedStateOfMind



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types
Genre: (but not really), ADHD, Annabeth Chase-centric (Percy Jackson), Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson Fluff, Character Study, Drabble, F/M, Fluff, Hands, Kid Fic, annabeth chase needs a hug, ish, mild PTSD, percabeth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:55:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28102785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConfusedStateOfMind/pseuds/ConfusedStateOfMind
Summary: Her scar cover hands that were meant for combat, never seemed to be able to keep still.—-A character study of Annabeth throughout the years, as well as her relationship with Percy.
Relationships: Annabeth Chase & Percy Jackson, Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson
Comments: 1
Kudos: 49





	These fidgety hands

**Author's Note:**

> This is me just projecting my adhd problems onto Annabeth

Annabeth's hands were meant to hold a weapon. They were built for war, meant for combat. Whether she wielded a knife, or a sword, it was the same. Her hands never shook when she fought. Her brain was hardwired that way, being a halfblood. 

They were always so unbelievably fidgety, though, as she worked with them, wrote with them. Her scar cover hands that were meant for combat, never seemed to be able to keep still. 

————

  
  


She ran her fingers together, completely unaware that she was actually doing it, as she looked up at the night sky. Medusa had shaken her up, though she’d never admit it. It was understandable, that kind of reaction would be more than expected from a 12 year old girl. Annabeth suppressed the urge to get up, to move around. She felt restless, her leg bounced rapidly as she sat there. 

She looked around, her eyes skimming over Grover, who snored peacefully while clutching a halfeatten can, but it was the son of Poseiden who her eyes landed on. 

She regarded him thoughtfully, grey eyes scanning him. She’d always had trouble focusing on things, her brain worked too fast for her at times, but yet, Annabeth had no trouble focusing on the boy laying next to her. He was intriguing to her, though of course she’d never say that out loud. Her hand almost reached out to remove a stray piece of black hair on his forehead, but she stopped herself and gripped her beaded necklace instead, quickly looking away. 

  
  
  


-

She had never felt so out of control, sitting there in the ocean, sobbing wildly as Percy whispered soothing words in her ear. Her hands, scratched up and sore grabbing his shirt as she cried. 

She had been cocky, she knew that, but her own thoughts had distracted her from the what if’s. She was lucky, so unbelievably lucky to have Percy, though she didn’t realize it at the time. 

And if she hadn’t been so distraught, she would’ve noticed the way she clung to him, and the way he clung to her too. 

Even after they rescued Grover and made it back to camp, she had always been too distracted, too fast paced to realize that sometimes a brush of fingertips can spread warmth faster than the strongest of flames. 

  
  
  
  


-

Annabeth tapped her hand: pencil slung in between her fingers, her index finger drumming rhythmically against her desk. The teacher droned on at the front of the classroom, talking about trigonometry, something like that. Annabeth could only really focus on the ticking clock on the wall and how much it annoyed her. No matter how hard she tried, the teacher was just something her brain didn’t want to focus on at the moment. 

She bounced her leg, too, just like her finger, without really noticing, much to the pleasure of the easily irritable girl sitting next to her. 

The gray strand of hair slipped from behind her ear, and Annabeth was immediately sidetracked by it. Despite its history, Annabeth liked the strand in her blonde hair. Somehow, though she’d be caught dead before admitting it, it made her feel more connected to the boy who had the same streak of grey in his black hair. 

The teacher loudly hit a ruler against the blackboard to point out a factor in the lesson, snapping her back to reality. She continued to tap her finger. 

  
  
  
  


-

Her hands were steady when she pulled him towards her; her hands trembled when she pulled away. Her lips burned from the contact, and tears spilled from her eyes as she ran from the volcano with her invisibility cap placed on her head.  Her brain could never seem to slow down, and neither did her hands. 

They fidgeted and shook harder when she held out his robe in front of the camp, preparing to say goodbye to her best friend for good. 

But Gods, how they shook as she saw him standing there, as she dropped the fabric, and how  _ steady _ they felt as she clung to him, refusing to let go.

  
  
  
  


-

As she hunched over her work, Annabeth's hand reached up for her necklace, running her thumb over the beads; her fingertips were calloused and scarred and always fidgeted when she tried to work with them, and they always seemed to be cold. 

Sophomore exams were harder than she expected, and Annabeth had spent the past week staying up late in order to cram in time to study. She always ended up distracted, by small things around her room, sometimes by her own thoughts. And she gripped her necklace every time, the stress of what was to come that summer made her forget the work placed in front of her. The same green eyed boy filled her head again, and that green eyed boy was good as dead in only a few months. Annabeth slowly raised a shaky hand to her face, hands too young to be continuously used to wipe away tears.

  
  
  
  


-

Her hands were cold, and her leg bounced as she handed him the cupcake. Annabeth's eyes, as focused as they had ever been, looked at the raven haired boy infront of her, his eyes just as easily distracted as hers, but they didn't look away. And neither did she. 

Her fingers were quivering and blue stained as she reached up, grabbing his face in her hands as steadily as she cound when she kissed him. His hands were just as shaky when he held hers, never letting go as they were carried away. 

Her hands stayed entangled with his as they shared another kiss, submerged in the water.

  
  
  
  


-

She grabbed another wildflower from the pile: weaving it in a methodical pattern she had memorized years ago. Percy had joked about it, asking when she’d become a fan of flower crowns. 

She hadn’t ever contemplated, let alone try, to see what she’d looked like wearing one. 

Grover had taught her to do it, years ago, when she was a lonely seven year old, not knowing what to do with her hyperactive hands. Grover had shown her the trick, and it had stayed with her. The predictably of the pattern eased her, and helped her when her mind raced so fast she didn’t know what to do with her hands. 

She pulled her boyfriend’s arm gently, and taught him the same calming pattern. 

  
  
  


-

Now her hands were frantic, destroying everything they touched so it seemed. Her hands shook and mind raced too fast to pick up a pencil, too fast to handle delicate flowers, too fast to process what had happened to her green eyed boyfriend. He was gone. Her hands shook. 

She stumbled around the forest, trashing branches back with her hands until they bled, screaming his name until she could no longer speak, crying until she had no energy left to feel. 

But her hands worked faster than her heart, and she was relentless. 

  
  
  
  


-

Her hands tried to betray her as she lowered herself down the rope ladder, she was too scared to look down, in fear that her lack of focus would send her falling. Her fingers trembled against her camp necklace as she searched the crowd, and she felt a hit against her chest when she saw him, the same distracted green eyes that matched perfectly with her grey ones. 

His hands were soft and warm against her skin, polar opposites to her own dry and cold ones. Both hands of the couple were callous and scar ridden, and they gripped one another afraid that if they’d let go, their fidgety hands would forget the feeling of one another. 

  
  
  
  


-

She watched him, eyes focused on nowhere in particular, just as they always were when he was deep in thought. Her fingers clutched his hand, if not for comfort, then to stop the shaking caused by emotion. He looked over, their eyes met, smiles matched and he held her there in the stables of the Argo II, and she pretended not to notice the layer of anxiety on his arm wrapped around her. 

Annabeth's mind began to drift, filling with thoughts, as it usually did. And her fidgety fingers tapped against his skin rhythmically, like always. But what was rare was that, for the first time in ages, she had no trouble falling asleep. 

  
  
  


-

She held her hands out in front of her, cold and bloody, and shaking like crazy. Her throat was raw as she stumbled, desperately searching for Percy. Wide eyed and frantic, she waved her hands around trying to find those green eyes in the dark. 

And she did. Her hands never shook like this before. 

Annabeths hands were shaking violently as she clutched him, desperately trying to find warmth in his face as the poison wore him down. His eyes were far away, and he raised a shaky hand to her face, and she took his hand in hers. She doesn't let go.

  
  
  


-

Years pass, their hands grow, become older, more scarred. 

Percys hands were a perfect reflexion of his character; soft, warm, scarred yet comforting. Just like when he was younger. 

They fit perfectly that way, just as they always had. Both Annabeth and Percys hands were callous and fidgety. 

She found new ways to keep her hands busy, and so had he. His finger moved through her hair as if it were the finest of silk, like they were moving through water. She traced his palm with her finger, and memorized its pattern.

And when she spent her days working, her fingers fidgeting with the ring on her finger, his hands were there to pull her to bed at night, reminding her to sleep. 

When she grew so stressed she burst into tears, his hands were there to share and take away her pain. 

And they are both there for the other when one of them wakes suddenly, screaming with tears in their eyes, the others hands are there to brush hair out of their face.

  
  
  
  


-

Annabeth's hands fidgeted with anxiety as she looked down at the bundle in her arms, her grey eyes that were always  _ so  _ distracted by projects were now perfectly focused on her child. 

She ran her fidgeting index finger over the short spiky black hair on her son's head, and she sighed. 

Her hands kept busy, rocking her child carefully, oh so carefully, and her hands have never been so steady.

  
  
  
  



End file.
